Time for a New Song
by dreamflower02
Summary: When Pippin first meets Menelcar the Minstrel in "The Life of a Bard", his new friend has been on the road for many a year. But how did he come to choose the life of a wandering singer? Here we meet young Menelcar who is not yet a minstrel, nor even an apprentice bard...yet. (Written in 2011 for B2Mem).


_March 27, 2011 Challenge:_

_Write a story or poem, or create a piece of art where your character rises above themselves to follow their dreams._

When Pippin first meets Menelcar the Minstrel in **"The Life of a Bard"**, his new friend has been on the road for many a year. But how did he come to choose the life of a wandering singer? Here we meet young Menelcar who is not yet a minstrel, nor even an apprentice bard...yet.

**Time for a New Song**

"Ow!" Menelcar's practice sword went clattering to the ground as he brought his stinging knuckles to his mouth.

His opponent stood back, an expression of mingled exasperation and disgust on his face, followed by one of worry. "Little brother, not only will you never get into the Tower Guard, I do not believe you will even be accepted into the City militia!"

Menelcar's face flamed. Sullenly he said, "Of course I will. They take anyone who is yet breathing, and can still stand upon two feet."

Valandil put an arm around his younger brother's shoulders. "Menelcar, that's why I was hoping to help you get into the Guard. The militia's not safe- most of them are poorly trained, too old, too young, or are those who could not get into the Guard because they are brutes and bullies."

"Or because they are completely incompetent with their weapons, like me."

"Menelcar, you are not that bad."

Menelcar just gave his older brother a look. He knew better. He was no good with a sword, and even worse with a bow. All of his brother's encouragement would not change that fact. The truth of the matter was, he did not _want_ to be a soldier. It was not cowardice, it was simply a deep down knowledge that he was not fitted for the life of a warrior. Of course, like anyone, he feared being killed. But what he truly feared was having to kill someone else. There were those who were able to do that when needed to protect their land. But he was not one of them.

"I have no more time today," said Valandil. "I must report to my captain for duty in a few minutes. I will see you tomorrow- I have leave tomorrow and will join the family for supper. Perhaps we can try again afterwards." He tousled his brother's hair, even though at nearly seventeen, Menelcar was almost as tall as Valandil.

Menelcar stood and watched his brother walk away, looking handsome and confident in the livery of the Tower Guard. He should go back into the house or the shop and find out if his father needed his help. He was not totally useless in the cobbler's workshop, not like he was with weapons, though he knew his father was sadly disappointed in his lack of talent. But he knew that it was his sister's betrothed who would be following his father as master of the shop. Galdor had been apprentice to his father and soon would take his mastery. Maybe he could sing at his sister's wedding. He was good at that, at least.

Instead of going in, he turned away, and headed down the street, headed for the second level. He would find old Galennur. The old bard often busked by the gate between the third and the second level of the City, and he was usually glad to see Menelcar. Perhaps they could sing together for a while. Galennur thought he sang very well, and had been teaching him to play a harp as well. What his parents would think if they knew of that he hated to imagine! They had their heart set on his joining his brother in the Tower Guard, and seemed completely unable to understand that he simply was not fit to be a warrior. The Lord Denethor had made many stirring speeches about how important it was for as many young Men as possible to become warriors, to protect and defend their land. Menelcar shook his head. He would probably be of more service to his land if he fought for the enemy, because he knew he was worse than useless to his own people. He would surely endanger anyone he fought alongside!

Galennur was indeed there by the gate, and he was singing the song he always sang when he completed his day's entertainment, the song of the King's return:

_ "Then forever rejoice,  
_ _When I've heard the voice_ _  
That the King enjoys his own again!_ _  
Yes, this I can tell_ _  
That all will be well_ _  
When the King enjoys his own again!"*_

As the last notes died away the old bard swept down in a low and graceful bow, and there was scattered applause from the gathered crowd. Several coins made their way into the hat that lay upon the pavement, and Galennur started to stoop and pick it up as Menelcar made his way to his friend's side. "I see I came too late today," he said. "You have already finished."

"The crowd was small today," Galennur answered. "But I am glad you came by-" suddenly he froze, and looked over Menelcar's shoulder with alarm. Two Guardsmen were approaching them, their faces grim.

"Are you Galennur" one of them asked.

"I am."

"You make your living busking on the street?"

"I do, as I have always done."

"I must tell you then, that as of today, you must find another way to keep yourself. By order of the Lord Denethor and the Council, performing on the street has been banned."

Menelcar's jaw dropped in astonishment, but Galennur simply sighed and shook his head sadly. "It has come to that, then? I am not surprised. Alas, I know no other means of keeping myself and am too old to learn other ways."

The Guardsman who had delivered the message flushed with embarrassment, but said, "You know none may live in the City without some means of support, whether it be family or gainful employment. You will have two days to leave. If you are found singing in public between now and that time, you will be arrested and forcibly removed from the City."

"Thank you for the warning."

The Guardsman went red once more. "I am only doing my duty." He paused a moment before turning away. "I'm sorry," he whispered, barely audible, before he and his companion left.

Menelcar was shocked. "That is not fair! They cannot do that to you! You should appeal to the Lord Denethor!"

Galennur turned and looked at Menelcar. "Why should I do that? I have long known that my songs of ancient tales and my song of the King's return would not please him. It was only a matter of time before he decided to be rid of me." He placed a hand on Menelcar's shoulder. "I have enjoyed your friendship, Menelcar. Few young men pay much attention to me. If you would farewell me, I will be leaving by the main Gates at sunrise."

Menelcar caught the old man in a fierce embrace. "I will be there!"

All the way home, Menelcar found himself blinking away angry tears. Lord Denethor asked Gondor's young men to fight to defend the realm, to lay down their lives for the kingdom of which he was Steward. Steward only! He held Gondor against the coming of the King one day, and to forbid it being sung of, that event that every Gondorian should hope for, it was not right! And now Galennur was being forced to leave the White City just because he sang of the King's return.

Or was it simply because he _sang_? There was precious little to enjoy in Gondor in these days when all was duty, and all must be serious. In any case, it was not _fair!_

When he arrived home, just in time for supper, he told his family angrily of the new edict.

His father looked at him disapprovingly. "Why were you down there, anyway? I am sure there are better ways for you to spend your time!"

Before Menelcar could respond, his mother said mildly, "Well, it seems a shame. Galennur is a nice enough old fellow. But I am sure that the Lord Denethor knows what's best for us. And, after all, it cannot be good to get people's hopes up for a king who likely will never return, when there are more important things to worry about." She then turned the talk to his sister's upcoming wedding.

That night Menelcar was wakeful. If Galennur left Minas Tirith there would not be much left for him to enjoy in life. He would never make a fighter at all, and he would never be much more than barely adequate as a cobbler. He had dreamed, oh how he had dreamed, of being a bard himself one day. He had never said anything to his family; he knew how scornfully they would treat such an ambition.

And yet...

Perhaps this was his chance. He knew if Galennur remained, he would never be allowed to be his apprentice. His family would never have agreed, and could have made things difficult for Galennur. But if he left, if he went with him...

Quietly, he rose from his bed, and gathered up a few possessions and a change of clothing. He was a useless burden on his family, but he could be of help to Galennur on his lonely road.

At dawn he was at the main Gates, his pack in hand.

Galennur looked at him. "Are you sure?"

"I thought perhaps- you could use an apprentice?"

The old bard stared at him for a long time, and then nodded. "The road is long and the way is hard."

Side by side they trudged out of the White City towards a new life.

XXXXXXX

*A very old song from 1640, which I modified and used in "The Life of a Bard" and "Chance Encounter".


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